


Rootless

by orphan_account



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Foster Family, English Allura (Voltron), Español | Spanish, Foster Kids AU, Gen, Gender-Neutral Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Hunk tries to play mediator, Japanese-Brazilian Shiro (Voltron), Keith is just ??????, Korean Keith (Voltron), Lance throws a tantrum, Latino Lance (Voltron), Pidge goes "fuck this", also shiro and allura are married
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-31
Updated: 2016-08-01
Packaged: 2018-07-27 14:08:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7621423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rootless; ˈruːtləs: having no settled home or social or family ties.</p><p> </p><p>  <i>The story was always the same.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I would like to give a big shoutout to tumblr user youreagalrakeith for giving me this idea and writing up all the headcanons they wrote up! ( i'll be writing about all of those next chapter, this was just to set the story :D ) Thank you for making this possible.
> 
> Also, I'm sorry if this reads weird???? However, in my defence, it was _way_ past midnight when I finished this.

If someone were to ask Keith what it felt like to transition from being with his birth family and ending up in foster care, he would simply shrug his shoulders.

He only knew small details about his biological family and even those details were blurry and insubstantial at best. He had been told that his mother was a Korea-born American, giving him the incentive to learn Korean even if it was only to be close to his mother, he had been told that his mother had died when he was very young and that the social workers could find no trace of his father or any other living family - and the rest was hidden behind a blurred screen in Keith's mind. This, however, left the foster agency with an unexpectedly rambunctious child on their hands. At a younger age, Keith was prone to tantrums, late nights crying and acts of rebellion. As he grew older, his acts of rebellion grew much quieter, but still loud enough to irritate his foster parents: he ignored his foster parents, talked back to them and waved off their concerns as if they were flies passing through in the wind.

Keith lasted around four to six months in each foster home before he was dragged back to the agency by his latest foster parents declaring that he was impossible and " _too much_ ". At first, with his first round of being kicked out of foster homes, Keith had cried and _demanded_ to know why they didn't want him. However, the older he got, the less he cared as he became accustomed to the feeling of being unwanted. Eventually, he became tired of switching from foster home to foster home as the scenery was always the same; he was taken in by a beaming family that had no other children, then, eventually their beams faded into scowls and frowns, courtesy of Keith.

The story was always the same.

That same story, one that Keith had grown weary of living and that the agency had grown weary of hearing, was the same story that had landed him back in the agency, sitting on a cushioned chair as he crossed his arms and legs, staring at the goldfish that was swimming mindlessly in its fish tank. Keith found himself wondering if he could be compared to that fish, swimming around in the unfamiliar waters that didn't look the same as the ocean, going around and around with no trajectory, always trapped in the same place.

It was at that time that Keith's train of thought was stopped from Coran's chirpy call of his name. Keith raised an eyebrow as he stood up. Sure, Coran calling his name chirpily wasn't unusual as he was an optimist, always pushing Keith out of the door with a glint in his eyes, telling him to be on his **best** behaviour whenever a foster family had taken him in. Nevertheless, the way Coran shouted his name this time was something Keith could only describe as different, but truthfully, there were no words to describe the way Coran's voice had raised several octaves ( _or, at least, none that he could think of_ ). He was surprised that the dogs next door didn't start howling.

Coran was followed out of the door by a tall, muscular man that Keith didn't recognise. Keith had spent enough time here to memorise the features of the workers: the shape and colour of their hair, eyes, the shape of their noses, heads, ears - but Keith _knew_ that this man didn't work here. His smile was too soft and he didn't have the same bags under his eyes - that Keith felt he had _single-handedly_ given everyone - that everyone else had around the place. More noticeably, Keith was pretty positive that a **child** couldn't have given him the deep set scar that straddled the man's nose.

Keith's eyes flickered between Coran and the mysterious man, crossing his arms over his chest, silently asking for an explanation. His eyes never looked back to the taller of the two for too long, his facial features set into the same expression that everyone's had been before deciding that Keith was a problem with no solution. Coran, having gotten uncomfortable with Keith's brooding stare as Keith's eyes landed on him, turned his whole body to gesture to the man next to him.

"Keith," he began, his voice slightly wavering with excitement as he gestured to the taller man. "This is Shiro. He thinks you'd be a great addition to the family."

Keith rolled his eyes. That was what they all they said.

"Yeah, gr-" wait, did he just say _family_. Well, they didn't all say that. In fact, it's the first time he had heard it. "Wait, what?"

"Shiro has three other kids living with him, all about your age," Coran affirmed, watching as Keith's brooding stare turned into a mix of emotions; surprise, worry, discomfort.

He had been an only child. The only contact he had with his generation were his short - lived six months at a public school where he had refused to speak with any of the other students as well as brewing up a storm, resulting in an expulsion. Every other foster parent had gotten this information, deciding the best course of action to providing Keith with an education was home schooling. He had no idea how to act around other teenagers. He had heard generalisations of them from the generations above them; always on their phones, eyes glued to a screen, hand stapled on to their electronics, rude, insensitive, too sensitive. He didn't know what was true and he never had to care until now.

Coran put his hand on Keith's shoulder, a kind and soft smile sent his way as Keith's violet eyes pierced through him. He didn't know what to make of this. Why now? Why, in all of his sixteen years with all of the other foster homes out there that he could have stayed in with other children, did someone with other children decided to take Keith in _now_?

"It'll be good for you," he began, soft enough so that he knew his words were only meant for Keith's ears. "Don't you think?"

Keith has no idea. He believed it would have been good for him when he was three years old and alone with no mother or any other living family; he believed it would have been good for him when he was six years old and had no one to comfort him when he woke up crying in the middle of the night; he believed it would have been good for him when he was nine years old and had no one to level his head or set an example for when he threw tantrums; he believed it would have been _good for him_ when he was twelve years old and had no one to look out for or anyone to look out for him when he was angry at the world. Now, here he was, at sixteen with no clue on how to interact with any of them. Maybe it would be good for him and this was a situation where it was better late than never, and maybe it would blow up in his face just like everything else did.

Keith has no idea, but he nods anyway.

***

The car ride to the foster home was silent for the most part with the exception that Keith had learned that Shiro's left arm was a prosthetic and his full name was Takashi Shirogane. Shiro learned that Keith had a red toy lion that he refused to part with, even at sixteen. Shiro had chuckled and told him that the three kids living with all had the same lion. Keith had disclosed that it had been given to him as a baby by his mother - and that was all there was to their somewhat conversation, left with some Brazilian radio station playing softly through the speakers. Keith had drummed his fingers on the dashboard, shuffled around in his seat and tried to listen to the Portuguese lyrics that whispered in his ears. They had only been riding along Shiro's car for forty-five minutes, but it felt like an eternity to Keith.

Shiro stopped for a second before turning a corner to enter a small dead end that was lined with cars.

Keith's heart jumped into his throat.

The car hummed to a stop, all the noises that followed ringing in Keith's ears; the sound of the car door on Shiro's side being opened, the sound of it closing. The sound of rustling from when Shiro pulled Keith's bag out of the boot, the sound of Shiro's prosthetic as he closed it. Keith swallowed, took a deep breath and opened the car door.

Wind hit his face as soon as he stepped back, blowing back ebony hair as Shiro handed him his bag. Slinging it over his shoulder, he followed Shiro up to the door, swallowing the lump in his throat. A fleeting smile was sent in his direction before the door opened to reveal the living room of the home. With his prosthetic arm, Shiro gestured for Keith to enter. Stepping on to the wooden floor, Keith looked around, already feeling out of place. Every other foster home he had been in hadn't been this decorated; homely. There were pictures on the walls of children with toothy grins, a couple in a frame on a wedding day; he recognised the man as Shiro, but the woman beside him he had never seen before. Although, Keith found her beautiful with her platinum hair pinned up and the white dress against her dark skin. He finds himself staring at it, picking it up to bring closer to his face. Shiro left him there, calling out that he would be in the kitchen if he needed him. Keith didn't reply.

He stood there for a moment, observing the photo. It wasn't like he had never seen a wedding photo before, but this one looked a little unconventional. In this one, the man was covered in cake with an apologetic smile on his face whilst the woman was glaring at him, but with soft eyes.

"You must be Keith," said a thick, English accent that rang like bells in ears. The voice had surprised him so much that he almost dropped the frame. His hand gripped on to it tightly, fingers practically digging into the wood, most likely giving him splinters; he didn't want to be kicked out of this foster home within seconds. Violet eyes glanced up to find the same smiling figure that was in the photo, except she was no longer in the white wedding dress. "I'm Allura."

"Are you-" he began, clearing his throat before speaking. Though, he was interrupted before he could even finish his question.

"I am the woman in that photo, yes," she answered. "Shiro and I are married."

Keith noted the kind smile that reached up and settled in her eyes, almost a twin to Shiro's. Keith knew that smile; he had seen it a million times, and after the first few, it started meaning nothing to him. Nonetheless, this was different. Allura's smile made him feel welcome, that he wasn't just a child to fill the empty space - that he may even feel loved here. Keith didn't know what to make of that, so he coughed and glanced away, settling the frame back down into its respective place. He found Allura was still standing there when he looked back, that smile still plastered on to her features. Keith frowned. He wished they would stop already. There was no way that Coran would have let Shiro and Allura take in Keith without telling him about his past with other foster homes. Still, Allura's smile was still plastered to her face as she outstretched her hand and told him to follow her.

They stopped at a small door that led into a conservatory. She let go of his hand for a moment to rap on the door, placing her hands on her hips, a frustrated expression crossing her face. A scrawny boy with bronze skin and messy brown hair looked up, the smile on his face fading as he exchanged a glance with the two others. A guilty blush crossed his face as he unlocked the door to the conservatory, pulling open the door to an angry Allura. Keith felt a small pang of sympathy for the boy. Despite only having met Allura a few seconds ago, the expression on her face didn't look like one he would like to be on the receiving end of.

"Lance Andrés Ramos," she started, her voice stern. Keith would have called it acidic, but Allura's voice sounded too full of care accompanied with the authority in her tone to call it that. Keith's ears picked up a small " _oh, whole name!_ " from somewhere inside the conservatory. "How many times have I told you not to lock the door?"

The boy looked offended.

"You never know what we could be talking about, Allura!" he exclaimed. An eyebrow raised as Allura hummed, blue eyes piercing into Lance's. Lance looked away from her icy gaze, probably looking for some form of escapism from the being of wrath that was Allura. His eyes landed on Keith. A finger was pointed towards the shorter boy. "Who's he?"

Allura peeled her eyes away from Lance, her eyes landing back on Keith. Once again, her face lit up into the warm smile that he had been welcomed with. Outstretching her arm, she nodded with her head, gesturing Keith to come forward. Awkwardly, Keith stepped up to Allura, practically being pulled into her embrace when he did. His eyes widened. He hadn't expected her to be so strong, especially with her slender arms. Not only that, but he hadn't expected anyone, never mind Allura, to be so affectionate with him right away. Allura stepped past Lance, bringing Keith into the conservatory with her. Lance followed them, sitting down on an ocean blue cushioned sofa that had a mug of tea sitting on top of its arm. Allura glared at the tea, then at Lance. Keith found it awe-inspiring that Allura could communicate her frustration without ever voicing it. Lance moved the tea and settled on a coaster on top of a small coffee table. The one with their glasses perching on the edge of their nose looked up from the laptop sitting in their hand, pushing their glasses further up their face. There was another person, sitting on top of a yellow cushioned sofa with a bag of _Apple Candies_ sitting next to them, a small toy car in their hands that it looked like they were trying to fix who had also glanced up.

Suddenly, Keith felt self-conscious. He had never had this many eyes on him at once; not like this. Not with brimming curiosity and welcoming undertones. He felt bile rise in his throat, his legs screaming at him to run away as his heart slammed against his chest. This was unfamiliar terrority; a hunting ground and Keith was the prey. However, Allura's arm was wrapped so tightly around him that he couldn't break free of it unless she let him go.

"This is Keith," she declared. He swallowed. He was a part of them now and there was no turning back. "He's your new older brother."

The word felt foreign to Keith's ears.

 _Brother_.

He had heard it being said before, but it was never an adjective that was used to describe him. He had been an only child all his life, never lasting long enough in one home to be a brother to anyone, let alone their **older** brother. He was reeling when they all stood up to greet him after Allura had told them to introduce themselves. Clearly, he already knew Lance was which was his introduction **(** _Allura rolled her eyes, holding in the urge to hit him with the white pillow that lay against his sofa_ **)**. The short one with the glasses was known as Pidge whereas the bigger one was Hunk. Keith raised his eyebrows; everyone here had such strange names.

"I'll leave you to get to know each other," she announced, peeling her arm away from Keith's shoulder. Almost instantly, Keith wanted it back. He felt exposed, like Allura's arm was keeping him safe from the vultures that surrounded him now. Keith wanted to cry out for Allura, but bit his tongue. Instead, he settled into the crimson sofa, curling up with the black pillow that went against it in order to try and find some solace in it. He does - for the entirety of one minute - before Lance is in his personal space. Keith concluded that Lance must be a friendly person - an _overly_ friendly person - as he perched on the edge of the sofa that Keith was currently sitting on, the pillow still pulled up to his chest.

"So, Keith," he states, casually, eyes twinkling. "Where were you before he came here?"

An unanswerable question. He was everywhere and nowhere at the same time; neither here nor there. He moved through places and then he was dropped out of them like a common house spider.

"Places," was his answer. It sounded cold; aloof and uninviting, but Keith believed he wouldn't last long here. Eventually, Shiro and Allura would grow tired of him and he would end up back at the agency with Coran's optimistic smile, but his disappointed eyes. On top of that, he needed time to process; time to process through his feelings of uneasiness and unfamiliarity. The twinkle left Lance's eyes as a look of confusion passed Lance's features leaving Keith with the wish that he would leave him alone to his thoughts, still trying to process the fact that he was now part of a _family_ of people.

"Uh, what places?" he asked. Keith sighed, pinching his nose between his fingers. Honestly, he had never really meant to come across as unwelcoming, but he just wanted to be left alone until he had the mental energy to deal with these new people; this new setting. He felt a small twinge of guilt when Lance looked somewhat wounded by the body language that Keith had been conveying.

"Just places," Keith muttered poisonously, glancing away from Lance. A small huff of annoyance came from the scrawnier boy across from him as he leaned back into his sofa, a childish mumble about how he liked being the oldest anyway and that he didn't want a big brother. Keith turned his back, silently thankful towards Hunk and Pidge for being too preoccupied to bother with the ebony-haired boy sitting across from them. Keith stared at the wall, his eyes fixating on the calming dark blue paint as they settled into a silence. The only sounds being the tapping of the keyboard from Pidge and the clattering of pieces from Hunk's tools.

Maybe it was the fact that he wanted some form of escapism for a moment, maybe it was just the day he had or maybe it was the fact that it was almost eleven at night, but Keith found himself fighting his eyes before he fell asleep in the conservatory on the red sofa.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I never expected this little idea to get so much praise, but thank you to everyone who left kudos and commented!  
> Anyway, this chapter includes most of the headcanons that were written up by youreagalrakeith. Let the shenanigans begin :)
> 
> cw: broken bones.

The sun spilled in through the window, shining in Keith's closed eyes. He groaned, blinking open one eye. Confusion was present on his features as he took in the new room; it was undecorated but painted in a glean of white paint. There were paint containers in the corner of the room as well as his duffel bag. The paint containers colour was hidden, although Keith guess from the stripe across the paint, they were a deep colouring of red. The floor was a shade of ash black looking pristine and like there had never been a crumb on the floor. Looking down, Keith finally registered the double bed that he was lying in. The covers were currently twisting around his legs, sporting the same jeans that he had wore yesterday and a pillow lying on the floor. A pang of worry shot through his chest at the unfamiliarity of the bedroom. It took him a few moments before he remembered - this was _his_ bedroom now, courtesy of his new foster parents, Shiro and Allura.

Keith ran a hand through his hair, combing it out of his eyes as they scanned the room once again. It was slightly bigger than the rooms he had stayed in before and he had never had a double bed. Usually, there was a twin bed that was shoved up against the wall in the corner, a table beside it and a dresser on the other side of the room that held a mirror above it. The rest was up to Keith, but he never did decorate his rooms after his sixth foster home. Keith flopped back down on the mattress, staring up at the ceiling. He found some sort of catharsis in thinking that the ceiling design looked like a bunch of different patterns. He decided that the design in the corner looked like a horse, another looked like a woman holding a bow and arrow and the rest were a mix and match of shapes or animals. He sighed after having laid their for fifteen minutes, his brain suddenly alerting him to the fact that there was a bunch of noise rumbling downstairs.

Picking up the pillow that was left on the floor, Keith tossed it haphazardly back on to the bed before he made his way to the bedroom door. Inhaling deeply, he mentally prepared himself for the scene he was about to be presented with. The door opened with a soft click, the cold air of the hallway breezing on to Keith's face. He pulled the door to close it as soon as he had taken his first steps out, practically slamming it against the hinges as he made his way downstairs. He stopped outside of the kitchen archway, watching the rest of the family perched on high chairs around a wide, high table as they passed the milk to each other. Finally, it was settled beside Lance and Keith felt that tickle of guilt cook itself in his stomach as his mind recalled yesterday's events. Keith hadn't _sincerely_ meant to be horrible towards him, but he had no idea how he was going to make it up to him - or even where he would begin for that matter, having had no experience with others his age. A lump rose in his throat that he quickly - and forcefully - swallowed down. Keith pushed himself into the kitchen-dining room, his feet pattering against the cold marble floor, a jolt sent up his spine as soon as he stepped on it.

"Good morning, Keith," greeted Shiro, a bowl in his hand with a dish cloth wrapped around his prosthetic, drying the bowl.

Keith almost jumped, only grunting in response, unsure of how to respond to the sudden acknowledgement. Normally, he was ignored by his foster parents. Mornings, especially. He went into the kitchen, ate his breakfast and then walked back out again while his foster parents chatted away in the background. There were no pleasantries exchanged and, over time, Keith became acquainted with the situation. This one, a situation where he was greeted like a father would their son - this situation was a path yet to be walked and Keith was lightly treading it, unsure of what his next move was supposed to be. The other situations were so clear; so simple that Keith had them mapped out in his brain; he would be ignored until he did something wrong, never mind the things he did right. He would be ignored until he did something so drastic that his foster parents felt they had no choice but to take him back to the agency like they had bought the wrong sized shirt.

Shiro placed the bowl down with a clang, drying off his hand as he settled into the seat next to the one that Keith had precariously perched himself upon. He was tense; so tense that the sickness from yesterday was rising up into his throat again. His eyes flickered between everyone in the kitchen, looking so relaxed and busy. Hunk was currently spooning portions of cereal into his mouth whilst Pidge nibbled on a bit of toast. Allura was sipping a cup of coffee as her eyes skimmed over a book that had a beige cover, the title of the book written in small print as it curled around itself. Underneath it was a shadowed figure who looked like they were staring up at the stars. His eyes landed on Lance once again, the lump in his throat rising again as Shiro flipped open a newspaper.

Keith watched as Lance spilled the cereal into a large bowl. Uncapping the carton of milk, Lance shifted in his seat, a scowl slowly settling into his features as only a small _drop_ fell into the bowl of cereal. Lance sighed as he picked up his bowl, settling it on to the counter before he walked up to the door where a bunch of jackets and hoodies were hanging. Keith watched as he pushed it as _far_ back as possible, silently asking him why he had to push his cereal so far away from the edge of the counter. Instantaneously, Keith got his answer as a large, panting Golden Retriever bounded into the kitchen. Keith hadn't remembered seeing a dog. In fact, around the house, it looked like there was no sign of a dog. Either the dog was very fair-haired or Shiro and Allura were amazing at staying on top of their home. Keith shifted slightly as the dog came up to sniff him before jumping up on his lap. Keith wasn't sure what to do. He had never had any pets before, unless the mouse that had burrowed itself in one of his foster homes gardens counted as a pet.

"Rover, c'mere boy," called Pidge, leaning over slightly, sticking their hand out. The dog, Rover, jumped down from his lap, running over to Pidge. Keith wordlessly thanked Pidge as they ran their hand along their fur. "Sit," ordered Pidge. Obediently, Rover shifted their whole body to sit down on their hind legs, tail wagging along the floor. Pidge smiled down at the dog, quickly stealing a glance at Allura and Shiro. Allura was invested in her book as well as Shiro looking deeply interested in an article in the newspaper. Pidge smirked mischievously, offering Rover the second piece of their toast once they knew that Allura and Shiro weren't looking - or so they thought.

"You're cleaning up the crumbs, Pidge," Allura said flatly, taking another sip of her coffee.

Pidge huffed, going back to running their hands through Rover's fur before the dog settled under the hood of the table.

"Shiro, Allura," addressed Lance. Keith looked up. Lance was now clad in a khaki green hoodie, a pair of house keys in his hand. The key had a battered stuffed orca keychain that hung from the loop, as well as a small and faded silver _L_ that looked sad and tired from its scratches and slight rust. "I'm going to get some more milk. Do you want anything?"

Allura shook her head, waving Lance off as she immersed herself deeper in her book. Shiro glanced up from the newspaper, looking up at Lance as Lance stared at him with an impatient curiosity.

"What kind?" Shiro asked.

"Soy milk," Lance replied.

Shiro glanced up, a wicked glint in his eye that Hunk muttered a small _oh, no_ at. Keith raised an eyebrow, stealing a glance at Hunk as well as catching Pidge roll their eyes, fighting the urge not to bang their head against the table right there and then. Allura also rolled her eyes, taking another sip of her coffee as she ignored Shiro altogether, bringing her book closer to her face as she flipped the page. They all seemed to know what was coming, but Keith was curious, his eyes flickering in between Lance and Shiro.

"Hola, Milk," Shiro began in a language that Keith recognised as Spanish. " _Soy tu padre._ "

Keith watched Lance's face contort into one of annoyance as he stared at the man, brows furrowed over widened and fiery eyes whilst Shiro grinned. Allura nearly spat out her coffee, but choked on it instead whilst Hunk patted her gently but firmly on the back. Keith's face fell. He didn't know much Spanish, but knew enough to know what Shiro had said. Lance didn't reply to that horrible joke. Instead, a large, frustrated sigh erupting from his chest as he slipped a sleeve that had fallen down over his shoulder, almost slamming the front door behind him. Keith watched as Rover jumped up on the counter where Lance had set his bowl, trying to reach the cereal with his paw. Pidge called him down, a whimper erupting from his jaws as he hopped down from the counter at Pidge's command. Jumping down from their high chair, Pidge stalked off into the living room, Rover at their heels. Violet eyes followed their movements with Keith really seeing Pidge's height now; they were barely reaching over the counters.

"Hey, Keith," called Hunk's voice, gaining Keith's attention. Hunk stood up, placing his bowl in the sink. "Are you going to have anything for breakfast?"

Keith had been so invested in observing their family dynamic that he had forgotten to eat. It wasn't like it mattered, anyway. The last time he had tried eating this early in the morning, he had ended up being sick and his foster mother exclaiming that he had to stay in bed, despite his claims that he was fine. That the cause of his sickness was just because he ate a large portion too early and that he would be have been fine with a piece of fruit. Keith concluded that she just kept him in bed and away from anything else because it meant that she got rid of him for the day.

"Um, no," answered Keith, shifting slightly in his seat, uncertain why he was sharing such information with people he hadn't even known for a day. "I can't... eat things like this too early in the morning."

"Oh, no problem," Hunk chirped. Keith was stunned at Hunk's unquestioning acceptance of that trait of his. Usually, everyone seemed to want to know the answer to questions that Keith didn't _have_ an answer to. Opening the fridge, Hunk pulled out a plump, red apple and tossed it towards Keith. Keith's hands instinctively shot up, the apple landing firmly between them. Hunk's eyes sparkled with awe as he exclaimed, "nice catch!"

Keith smiled awkwardly as he took a little bite of the apple. It was cold and sweet. Thankfully, Keith didn't feel sick after having swallowed one bite of it. He didn't want to leave that impression on Shiro and Allura who had welcomed him as a part of their family as soon as he arrived. _They don't deserve that,_ thought Keith as he took another bite of the apple. Everyone's eyes turned to stare at the front door as Lance came back into the house, a carton of soy milk in his hand. Allura slowly closed her book as she checked her watch, eyes widening as she exchanged a glance with Shiro. Lance placed the soy milk in the fridge, peeling off his hoodie as he went to hang it up. Keith looked away from him, watching the married couple bicker. Allura was tapping Shiro, reminding him to take this, that and the next thing and Shiro was waving her off, telling her that he had all the stuff she pointed out. Soon, they had both thrown on jackets, over their presidential suits. Keith guessed they were either attending a meeting with the President or were going to work.

The latter seemed more likely.

"Kids, we're off to work," called Shiro. They all grunted in response, unfazed by his words. "Keith's in charge!"

The dynamic changed instantly; Pidge stopped typing on their computer, Hunk looked up from the small robot that he was tinkering with, almost dropping a screw, and Keith near enough choked on his apple. Hunk offered him a cup of water as he patted his back. Keith strangled out a graceless thanks as he took a large gulp of the water. Lance, however, was making a scene as he practically spun on his heel, eyes wide with a glint in them that looked like betrayal.

" _WHAT?!_ " he exclaimed, his voice seemingly laced with someone that sounded like hurt. "Why does he get to be in charge?! He can't be in charge! He's barely been here a day, and I'm always in charge!"

Shiro's voice remained calm.

"Lance," he began, his voice steady but warning. "You were in charge when _you_ were the oldest. Now, Keith is the oldest. You know how it works."

Lance pouted and whirled around to face Keith with a childishly angry expression. Keith ignored him, his gaze on Shiro, discomfort in his eyes. His expression was reminiscent of a lost and wounded puppy that he was surprised he didn't start crying right there and then. Hunk seemed to put two and two together as he placed his hands in between the two boys, placing his hand on Lance's shoulder whilst he sent a kind but uncomfortable smile towards Keith.

"Let's all just take a deep breath," advised Hunk as he took slow steps up to Shiro. "How about you leave me in charge, Shiro? I mean, Lance seems pretty upset and Keith's only been here for a few hours-"

"No. Sorry, Hunk, but you know the rules," said Shiro as he cut off the attempted peacemaker, hands at his hips now as Allura beeped the cars horn. Since when had she been in a car?

Lance groaned in agitation, his tantrum seeming to grow. "This is ridiculous. You can't put someone who's barely had one conversation with us in charge," he grumbled.

"Come on, Lance, just give Keith a shot. Anyway, I have to go or Allura will kill me for making us late again," Shiro added, slinging a blazer over his prosthetic arm before he walked out of the door, calling over his shoulder. "Be good for Keith!"

With a wave, Shiro and Allura drove away, leaving them with an uncomfortable Hunk, an unfazed Pidge ( _they had gone back to typing_ ), an angry Lance and a very clueless Keith.

***

A lot of time had passed after Shiro and Allura had left for work that it was dark out now, the November night bringing a chill in from the wind that Hunk had opened just a crack. It had been hours now and Keith was _still_ trying to get Lance to listen to him, but there was one thing: Keith had no idea what he was doing. Another thing was that Lance had been throwing a tantrum and acting childishly ever since Shiro had left Keith in charge. Eventually, Keith got so annoyed that Lance wasn't listening to him that they ended up in a full blown arguments. What they were over, Keith doesn't remember. Although, he does remember Lance calling him a mullet-brain. Eventually, Hunk - his failed saviour and failed usurper - had to assert himself into the situation once again. He concluded that Hunk just wanted everyone to get along, that he wanted peace in the family. Pidge was messing with electronics in the corner, seemingly uncaring about what had happened between Keith, Hunk and Lance. Currently, they were all sitting in the living room with the dull sound of the television as a woman ran away - two more women running behind her - in a wedding dress. 

Keith believed the tension in the room could be metaphorically cut with a knife.

Lance was currently playing with a Nintendo in the corner, his legs hanging off the arm off the sofa whilst Hunk leaned against his arm as he flipped through a book on mechanics, occasionally glancing up at the TV. Everyone's movements were slow and tense, as if they were afraid of figuratively ripping the impasse they had all reached. Except for Pidge who, honestly, was just too young to really care about the situation between Lance and Keith. Keith, in all of his glorious wits, decided that, maybe, he could kill the tension, discourse and his discomfort that he was feeling by having them all interact with each other. Keith thought that, perhaps, he would feel less uncomfortable this way, but considering he had never interacted with anyone inside of his age group much before, he didn't know what really was age appropriate - or what he could suggest that they would all want to do.

"Um," Keith began, clearing his throat. All eyes turned to look at him, including Pidge's as they peered over their glasses. Keith felt like he was being stared down, silently interrogated for information that he didn't have. "Do you guys want to go outside?"

Hunk and Lance shared a look, their eyes gleaming with delight as soon as Keith suggested it. Pidge shrugged, closing over the laptop. Keith raised an eyebrow at the look between Hunk and Lance, feeling locked out of something. A secret that he was not a part of. Despite his feeling of exclusion, Keith decided not to ask as he peeled the key labelled _porch door_ from the key rack. Everyone stood behind him, waiting for him to open the door. As soon as he did, Hunk and Lance ran out into the cold night. Somehow, Keith felt like he should have told them to put on appropriate winter clothing, but it was too late for that now and he felt silly for thinking that. They were all old enough to know that they should be wearing the right clothing. He followed Pidge outside, closing the door slightly behind him, as Hunk and Lance threw snowballs at each other. Keith, feeling that he should have done so, chastised them about getting colds.

Lance stuck out his tongue. "It's your fault. You didn't tell us to wear our coats, hats, gloves and scarves."

"I shouldn't have to," Keith ground out, feeling annoyed once again. "You're all old enough to know that you-"

"Hey, Lance," panted Hunk, placing a hand on Lance's shoulder. "Let's play Voltron. You know, like we used to."

Lance's eyes gleamed with excitement, silently agreeing with Hunk as he nodded his head vigorously. Keith was about to ask what Voltron was, but there was no need to when Lance was crouching down on his hands and knees, exclaiming that he was the leg of Voltron. Pidge was perching on standing on top of Lance, apparently pretending to be an arm. Keith's expression contorted into one of confusion as Pidge made silly swooshing noises that would have made Keith giggle if not for the passionless in the way Pidge acted. Once Pidge jumped down, having had enough, Lance exclaimed excitedly that Hunk should be the other arm. Hunk and Pidge exchanged a glance. Lance was a scrawny boy, looking like he had the upper body strength of a squirrel. Keith very much doubted that he would be able to hold up Hunk on his own, but he wanted Hunk to be Voltron's other arm nonetheless to which Keith says nothing. Hunk, trying his best to be gentle as he climbed on top of the skinnier boy, stood upon his back. 

Despite the change in weight, Lance still looked excited. Keith wondered if this was a childhood game that they all used to play, though he didn't know how long either of them had been here. Keith felt at peace for just a moment - but only a moment. That peace was shattered by the sound of Hunk crashing into the soft, white snow and Lance's screaming with pain. For some reason, Keith felt stupid that he couldn't have seen something like this coming. Serenity was never a common theme with a firecracker like like him.

Keith's eyes widened as he watched Hunk pick himself up, exclaiming apologies with Pidge bolting up to Lance. His heart dropped into his stomach, panic blossoming like a flower all around his body. Forcing his legs to move, Keith ran up to the now incapacitated boy, outstretching a hand to pull him on to his knees, one of his legs outstretched. Keith lowered himself next to Lance, kneeling in the snow, still holding his hand. Lance's eyes land on Keith and Keith is taken aback by the tears in his eyes.

"I’m sorry, I’m sorry, don’t tell Shiro," he muttered, voice cracked and, from what Keith had observed from the boy, very un-Lance like. He glances up at Hunk and Pidge who look sympathetic, their hands resting against Lance's shoulders. Keith felt excluded again, locked out from a secret. His eyes travel to where Lance's foot hangs limp and he reaches over to pull the boot gently from his foot. He's met with a nasty blooming black and blue bruise against Lance's bronze skin and Keith isn't sure how he can hide something like that from Shiro or Allura. Mortification passes over his face as he feels panic rise within him again, whispering to himself that he doesn't know what to do; he's never been in this situation before and he's never set himself up to be - he _knew_ he shouldn't have been put in charge, even Lance knew that he shouldn't have been put in charge.

"Keith," says a voice that he recognises as Pidge, a hand placed on his shoulder. Keith looks up at Pidge, finding that they had a house phone in their hand. Keith didn't care how or when they had left to go and get it, his main focus on _how in the world_ he was going to fix this. Pidge shoved the phone into his free hand. "Calm down and call nine-one-one."

Keith's voice was panicked over the phone that the operator had to ask him to repeat himself a few times whilst Hunk carried Lance back into the house, an ice pack placed over his broken, swelling foot. Annoyance grew in Keith that replaced the panic that he was now basically yelling at the poor operator, screaming expletives at them. He had been asked to calm down a few times, but he refused until they had said they were sending an ambulance. Keith huffed, running a hand down his face as he placed the phone back in its respective place. The tension returned to the living room as they all waited for the ambulance, Lance whimpering in pain at intervals as Hunk kept the ice pack firmly pressed against his foot. The flashing lights made everyone glance outside and Pidge practically flew to open the door before the paramedic could knock.

The paramedic stated that he had to check Lance's response time, his blood pressure and everything else that faded away in Keith's ears. He felt impatient, tapping his foot against the wooden floor. Finally, Lance was loaded into a wheelchair and whisked away into the ambulance. Hunk and Pidge tried to climb in after him, but the paramedic stopped them, a sympathetic look in his eyes.

"I'm sorry. We can only let one of you go," she remarked.

Keith wasn't sure what came over him except the fact that he felt responsible for Lance breaking his foot after Shiro had placed him in charge. "I'll go. Hunk, look after Pidge," he uttered before either Hunk or Pidge could speak up. They both turned to glance at him, surprise in their eyes, but he ignored their looks as he stepped into the ambulance, sitting beside Lance. The ambulance doors swung shut, leaving Lance looking wounded and Keith staring up at the white walls of the ambulance van, his arms crossed.

"You didn't tell Shiro or Allura, did you?" Lance asked, his voice missing the fire that he spoke with when he addressed Keith. Keith kept his eyes trained on the ambulance walls.

"Not yet, no," he replied.

"Don't tell them," ordered Lance, lifting his head to look at Keith.

Keith turns his head to look at Lance, tilting his head in confusion. He finds Lance staring at him with soft eyes.

"Why not?"

"I... I can't be kicked out of another foster home."

Almost immediately, Keith softened, instantly understanding the fear that Lance was feeling right now. He felt it every time he walked in to a new foster home, and every time he walked out of one. Keith felt it when he walked into _this_ foster home and, after this night, he was sure he would feel it again when Shiro and Allura sent him back to Coran. Keith's featured softened into a small smile, his hand reaching out for Lance's, his fingers curling around his hand hesitantly. This was, at the very least, the best he could do to comfort someone. Keith somehow felt comfortable, though. Comfortable enough to say what he said next.

"It'll be okay," he stated softly. "If anyone's going to kicked out, it'll be me. I've never had a little brother before, so I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do, but it'll be okay."

Lance smiled weakly up at him. "Thanks, Keith," he muttered, quietly.

For a moment, Keith forgot about Shiro and Allura and the fact that they were in an ambulance. Even after all of the torture that Lance had put him through this night, he wondered if having siblings would be such a bad idea, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll dedicate the next chapter to whoever can guess what Allura was reading and what was playing on the TV >:)
> 
> Hola, Milk. Soy tu padre: Hello, milk. I'm dad.  
> Credit for that joke: http://constant-gesticulation.tumblr.com/post/147707367607/shiro-what-the-fuck

**Author's Note:**

> Also, I'm Scottish so a lot of the things in here will be written in UK English e.g boot ( trunk ), car park ( parking lot ).  
> Yes, they all have colour coded sofas.


End file.
